


my dysfunctional as fuck family

by Nori_Chan



Series: hurting henry hidgens [4]
Category: StarKid Productions RPF, The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Broken Bones, But they still love each other, Depression, Dumb fights, Failed Suicide Attempt, Fights, Henry is dramatic, Hospitals, Implied Suicide Attempt, Memory Issues, Pre-Canon, Secrets, but his family helps him a lot, but she doesn't mean to be, emma and henry fight about dumb things, emma is mean sometimes, emma throws tantrums when shes mad, henry drinks big dummy juice, henry is really depressed, making a scene in a public place, not talked about in detail, paul and henry's relationship is explored in this one, paul is a good boyfriend, paul just wants everyone to get along
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 11:28:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18916051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nori_Chan/pseuds/Nori_Chan
Summary: When Henry and Emma get into a heated fight, Paul finds himself in the middle of it. So as the mediator, he decides after a few weeks that it's time for them to sit down and sort out their differences. What could possibly go wrong?





	my dysfunctional as fuck family

**Author's Note:**

> hey! this is the 100th story under the henry hidgens tag :D  
> thanks to everyone who comments on my stories; it really means a lot to me  
> sorry for taking so long to write this; been super busy with work and my own life  
> hope you enjoy, and please comment if you liked it!

Neither of them could remember why they were mad at the other. Emma felt it had something to do with an argument that started over some dumb musical Henry had insisted they see at the Starlight Theater, but it may have been something before that. Henry’s memory was so shitty that he couldn’t remember even that much. All they were both certain on was that the other needed to apologize first, but they were both so stubborn in their ways that they simply couldn’t even look at each other.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Paul had told both of them countless times. He, caught up in the middle of the two’s silent war, had been trying to get them to make peace with one another for the last two weeks. Whenever he was alone with Emma in their shared apartment, she would go on and on about how pissed off she was that the professor was so stubborn and dumb sometimes. On the rare occasion that Paul found himself alone with Henry, the older man would ramble about how much of a brat Emma could be when things didn’t go her way.

Harsh words were thrown behind each others’ backs, but Paul knew that the two cared about each other deeply, so deep that the petty fight was starting to take its toll on the both of them. Emma tried to cover her pain by keeping herself busy; she started asking for more double shifts at Beanies, and she did all of the chores in the apartment when she came home. It was only when she had time to relax that Paul could see just how tired and sad she really was. She didn’t want to fight with the man she practically considered her father, but her strong-willed personality kept her from being the first to apologize. At night, she would retire early, and Paul could hear her cry quietly as if trying to keep the noise to a minimum. Whenever he tried to ask her about it, she would seize up and close herself off to him. He didn’t know what to do about that.

Henry, on the other hand, didn’t even try to hide his grief. He pretended to be angry, but really, he was just hurt. Whenever they saw each other, Paul could tell the professor was getting worse. The man had undoubtedly stopped eating again as he so often did when he was stressed. What little weight he had managed to put on through Emma’s encouragement had been shed, and Paul was pretty certain that the man was literally going to die if the two didn’t stop ignoring each other. He didn’t know what to do with Henry, either.

But then he realized that perhaps the best way to bring them together was to literally bring them together.

“Why’d you have to pick such a nice restaurant?” Emma asked him as they were sat at a table, waiting for their server to come and take their drink orders. She was fumbling nervously with the hem of the tank top she was wearing. Paul had simply told her they were going out for dinner, so she had assumed they would go to their usual date night spot: Wendy’s. She was surprised she hadn’t been kicked out of this place for being so underdressed.

“Well, uh, it just opened last week, and I figured you’d want to try it,” Paul replied, but she noticed that he wasn’t looking at her but rather something just over her shoulder. She gave him a confused look when he seemed to wave someone over and spun around in her seat. She figured it would be one of his office friends, but she was surprised to see…

“What is _he_ doing here?” Emma hissed as she watched the professor slowly make his way over to their table. The two caught eyes, and though Henry looked hopeful at first, that was quickly replaced with a grimace when Emma glared at him. Paul was beginning to think that he had made a bad decision inviting them both here.

“It’s been literal weeks; you two can’t stay mad at each other forever.”

“We’ll see about that,” Emma huffed as the professor sat down across from her. Paul had thought it best that they not be seated by each other; his girlfriend had a tendency to get a little… rowdy, at times. Especially when she was drunk, and she was already downing the margarita she had ordered. Maybe she would behave since they were in public?

“Emma,” Henry addressed her levelly as he took his spot at the dinner table. He looked her tiny frame up and down, raising an eyebrow at her choice of dress. He himself was wearing a crisp button down, a nice blazer, and dark slacks, a stark contrast to her tank and ripped skinny jeans. “You’re looking… comfortable.”

Paul choked on his water. “So, uh, maybe we should, um, do some ‘I feel’ statements?” It was a stupid suggestion, and he regretted it the moment it came out of his mouth, but it was clear that they needed to do _something_.

“That sounds like a great idea, Paul,” Emma practically barked after finishing her drink and making a motion to a passing waiter to grab her another one. All the while, she never took her heated eyes off the professor. The older man tried to match her gaze, but even Paul, who was known for being a dumbass sometimes, could tell that he didn’t really mean it. Emma, on the other hand…

“I feel,” she continued with a new drink now in hand, “like my stupid professor should just apologize for what he said so we can move on.”

Okay, that was a start. Paul tried to cut in, but Hidgens beat him to it. “Well, I feel like you started this pointless fight, so you should be the one to apologize.”

Well, okay, now things were getting a little heated. “I feel,” Emma snapped this time with rising volume, “that you have your head so far up your own ass that you can’t tell when you’re wrong because you think you’re so fucking perfect all the time.”

Paul glanced around the room nervously as the people dining nearby started to glance over at the odd threesome. “Umm, hey, guys? People are starting to stare-”

“ _I_ feel like you act like a child sometimes just for the attention. You’re a grown woman, so start acting like one.”

Paul didn’t think he had ever seen the professor’s face so red. More and more people were beginning to turn their heads, and a waiter was starting to walk over to see what the commotion was about. What made him think they would remain civil even in public?

“Ha! That’s rich coming from you!” Emma nearly shouted as she stood abruptly from her seat, slamming her hands down on the table. Paul could clearly see how hurt she was, and he knew that when she was hurt, she often said stuff she didn’t mean. He opened his mouth to stop her from saying something she would regret, but she was already continuing. “You’re the one who acts like a kid! You can’t even feed yourself half the time, and you throw _way_ more tantrums than I do! You’re just a pathetic nobody whose only friend is a student! Why don’t you get a life?”

Paul held his head in his hands, wondering how this night could have gone south so quickly. It must have been a record. Hidgens looked absolutely shocked by the outburst. Even Emma seemed surprised by what she had said, and the minute she finished, she was already fumbling to take it all back. “Pr-professor, I--”

Always one for theatrics even when he was hurt, the man stood abruptly from the table. “I better get going,” he mumbled, trying to ignore the eyes that were staring into his back. By then, the whole restaurant knew what was going on. He slipped a bill onto the table alongside a folded piece of paper with Emma’s name written on it in his fancy handwriting. “When you’re in a better state, read this.” With that and a final clap on Paul’s shoulder, he left.

The whole restaurant was silent as a waiter asked Paul if everything was alright. He assured them it was and asked for the bill. It was time to go home. The other dinner guests had resumed their meals, but Emma was still frozen in time.

“Please tell me I didn’t actually say that,” she muttered to Paul as he helped her from her chair. He wished he could tell her that it hadn’t happened, that it had just been a figment of her imagination, but he didn’t want to lie to her.

“Yeah, you actually said that.”

 

Emma was a sobbing mess by the time they got back to their apartment. He had known her long enough to know how these moods of her usually played out; she’d get in a fight, be heated for a while, lash out, and then instantly regret everything. Paul had hoped to skip over the lashing out part, but it seemed like he hadn’t done a good job as a mediator.

“I’m sorry I didn’t stop you from saying hurtful things,” he apologized as he rubbed her back in a way he hoped was soothing. She blew her nose into a tissue.

“This has nothing to do with you,” she started, but then she realized how harsh that was. “Sorry, Paul. I just mean that none of this is your fault.”

“It’s not your fault, either,” he reminded her, handing her a new, clean tissue. “Sometimes we say things we regret. We just apologize and move on with our lives.”

She grabbed hold of the letter on the coffee table, reading it over again. It was an apology letter, the contents of which didn’t matter; all she cared about was the late line of “In short, sorry if I was a dick. Love, your best friend and favorite professor.” She had probably read it twelve times that night, and each time brought a new set of tears. She sobbed again.

“You’re so good at this, Paul,” she choked, “I wish I was as good of a person as you.”

“You are,” he assured, pulling her into a side hug, “but sometimes the good you just gets overtaken by an evil night troll is all.”

Emma pulled away and swatted at his chest, but he had succeeded at making her laugh. Humor was usually welcome at a time like this. But seriousness took over her once again, and she looked Paul dead in the eyes.

“I really fucked up,” she said as if realizing the grandness of the situation just then. She had hurt Henry’s feelings pretty bad, and he wasn’t exactly the most stable person…

“Do you want to go over and apologize?” Paul inquired, but she shook her head frantically.

“No way. I don’t want him to see me like this,” she said, gesturing to her face. Her hair was a mess, her eyes were puffy, and her nose was running. “I look like a mess.”

“A hot mess,” he teased with a grin, but he could sense how serious Emma was being. “I’ll go and check on him, let him know that you send your regards.” Emma nodded as he gave her a peck before standing up from the couch and grabbing his car keys. She grabbed his hand before he could walk over to the door, though.

“Paul?”

“Yeah, Em?”

“Will you get me some ice cream?”

He grinned down at her. “Sure thing. Anything else?”

“You’re the best boyfriend ever.”

He was in a good mood the entire trip to Hidgens’ place, but he felt dread overcome him once he pulled up at the locked gate. The house normally did that to him; it reminded him of those haunted houses you would see in old horror flicks. It gave him the chills.

He knew the professor had to be home because he could see the bike laying in the yard beyond the gate. He pressed the buzzer, expecting a reply, but there was nothing. Puzzled, he tried again, but he got the same result. Thank god he knew the password to unlock the gate; he didn’t really feel like scaling a 9 foot fence that night. He punched the code into the keypad, and the gate swung obediently open.

The sun was starting to set, and though he found sunsets beautiful, the eerie glow that was cast over the daunting mansion left him downright frightened. He walked the short way up the driveway and climbed onto the porch. He rang the doorbell a couple of times, but still no response. Maybe the professor wasn’t home after all? He waited for a few more moments for someone to answer before reaching for the handle. Sure enough, it was locked. Huh. He started to turn to head back to his parked car when he heard a loud _thump_.

“Professor? Are you alright?!”

 

 

The ride to the hospital was less than peaceful as Paul’s anxiety was at an all-time high. In his panic, he kept forgetting which way to go despite having lived in Hatchetfield his entire life. Laying in the backseat, Henry gave him directions and occasionally reminded him to slow down and not brake too suddenly. He was surprisingly calm, even with his left leg bent the wrong way. Not wanting to go to a hospital, he had insisted that he was fine, but the panicked look on Paul’s face left the older man unable to protest. He allowed himself to be carried bridal style to Paul’s car and driven to the hospital with no more protests.

Emma met them in the ER looking even more frazzled than Paul did. By the time she arrived and figured out which room the two were in, Henry already had his leg propped up and in a cast. Damn, doctors worked pretty fast these days.

“What happened?” she asked as she practically kicked the door open, startling the two men. Paul opened his mouth to start speaking, but the professor shot him a look before speaking first.

“Just a fall down some stairs. Broken leg. I’ll be fine in a month or so.”

Emma narrowed her eyes suspiciously at the frail man in the bed before turning her haughty gaze to her nervous boyfriend. He gulped as the two stared at him.

“Uh, yeah, that’s what happened. I saw it.”

Emma knew Paul wasn’t a liar, so if he said that was what happened, that that’s what happened. She threw herself in the chair by Henry’s bed, wrapping her tiny arms around his bony frame.

“You’re not a dick, you know,” she mumbled into his chest as he smiled and patted her back soothingly. Paul could see the tears shimmering in his eyes.

“I take it you read my letter, then.” They pulled apart, and now Emma was crying too, and Paul was just so happy to see them talking again. “You have to remind me; what exactly did we start arguing about? I can’t remember.”

Emma laughed as she wiped away her tears. “Man, first you fall down some stairs, and now you’ve got memory loss? You’re such an old man.” They all laughed at that. “I think it started when you said Heathers was an overrated musical.”

“Is that seriously what you two were fighting about? Musicals?” Paul questioned with serious disbelief. They both turned to mock glare at him, and he raised his hands up in defense.

“You wouldn’t understand, Paul,” Henry began.

“Yeah, musicals are serious business,” Emma finished.

“Yeah, yup, you’re totally right,” Paul conceded.

There was a moment of pleasant silence. It was broken by Emma. “So, when do you get out of here?”

“Pretty soon, I hope,” Hidgens replied smoothly as he began to sit up. His stomach grumbled; he had yet to eat dinner, and he was starving. “Do you think you could get me a snack from the vending machine? Here, I think I have some--”

He had started to reach towards his wallet that was sitting on the bedside table, but he stopped when she quickly stood up.

“No way. I’ll get you something, don’t worry.” Smiling at the two loves of her life, she made her way out of the room. When the door clicked shut, the two both released the breath they hadn’t realized they’d been holding. Paul’s own smile flicked back into a worried frown as he looked over to the man in the hospital bed.

“Professor…”

“Not a word, Paul,” he pleaded, the situation going from casual to tense in an instant. In that moment, Paul realized how old the man looked. How tired and frail he was. This must be his true self. It must have been exhausting putting on a charade all the time.

“I can’t lie to Emma.”

“Paul,” the professor said with all the seriousness in the world, “if she finds out I tried again, she would be devastated. Do you really want that?” He hated manipulating the young man, but what choice did he have? He didn’t want Emma to be mad at him, and he definitely didn’t want to be sent down to be examined by the psych ward.

“I… guess you’re right,” Paul replied after a moment, but he didn’t look too pleased about it. “I just… wish you wouldn’t… wish you hadn’t…” He couldn’t find the words to say, but he didn’t need to; Henry understood him.

“I know. I make mistakes a lot. It’s my character flaw.”

His attempt at a joke didn’t go over too well, but it did lighten the mood a smidgen.

“...You know she thinks of you like a father figure, right?”

Henry choked back a sob he didn’t know he’d been holding back. “You’re just saying that to make me feel--”

“No,” Paul cut him off, “it’s true. She’s too nervous to tell you herself because she doesn’t want it to be awkward between you two.”

He wasn’t a liar. Henry knew that. But the words just sounded too good to be true. As he started to cry, Paul wrapped his long arms around his shoulders and rested his chin in the man’s gray hair. That was when Emma walked in, a coke in one hand and a bag of potato chips in the other.

“Hey, guys, I’m…” She trailed off when she saw the two of them, Henry blubbering like a baby and Paul smiling over at her. The professor held his arms out in a silent plea, and Emma didn’t have to be asked twice. Tossing the snacks aside, she joined the group hug, pulling her two loves as close as she could manage. The doctor would come soon and check Henry out, but for now, the three simply held each other close without needing to speak a word.

Emma’s family may have been dysfunctional, but at least she had one.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! let me know what you think!


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